Black Night
by superncisfan039
Summary: Sherlock is forced to go into hiding after faking his death. He's tired of trying to stay with Molly and let things work out, so he decides to stay with a woman from his past. As the stakes get raised as suspicions are proven, Sherlock has to find himself. What does he feel deep down? Can he save Moira, or will he be too late?


Moira was, in a sense, just pretending to be trying to sleep. She knew he'd come, and so, even though she acted irritated, she didn't mind when he opened her bedroom door. It was he who became the reason for her being such a good actress. She and Sherlock had gotten in trouble so many times as kids that she just learned to act like nothing was going on. "You could have slept on the couch," Moira groaned, pulling the covers over her head. Secretly her heart was thumping, the cold loneliness leaving the room.

"Of course, sleep on the couch where I can be seen. I could have, and would have, slept on the one in the lab but you made sure you had test tubes and such on it. Then all your guestrooms are being used for storage. Do I have a choice?" Sherlock implored. Moira silently laughed at her brilliant move. Of course, Sherlock saw right through it, just as he always did. The two couldn't help but play this game.

"Fine then, join me, but don't you dare bother me," Moira invited. Sherlock just leaned back against the doorframe, eyeing her. He was handsome yet intimidating. He was nothing short of a genius, and yet still he was so ignorant to so many things. For example, he could tell anything about Moira, except that way deep down, far down with every fear and let down she loved Sherlock more than anything.

"It'd be nice if you actually gave me a choice," Sherlock commented. Moira hadn't seen Sherlock face to face in two years. Granted, they had texted and emailed often, but mainly just for things Sherlock wanted her to do. It was always the same old story: Sherlock needed Moira to do some task secretly, promising to get her back, but never fulfilling it. Sometimes he just drove her insane, which is why Moira hated and loved Sherlock at the same time.

"Oh, you mean like how you give me much of a choice with anything? I'm just letting you stay here because I know that Molly can be hard to deal most of the time. I don't have to," Moira explained. Sherlock just sighed.

"I do keep forgetting that you two are cousins. Anyways, in case either of us forget, we are married," Sherlock countered.

"Not by choice we aren't," Moira reminded him. It was their prideful parents that arranged for Moira to marry Sherlock. Neither of them really talked about, and it was really just a legal thing that no one knew about since there was only one set of documents.

"I do believe you chose me over Mycroft," Sherlock said. That was true. Moira had had a choice between the two Holmes brothers.

"Yes, well you're better to deal with than him," Moira laughed. Sherlock laughed a bit too.

"I will admit that that is true," Sherlock agreed.

"You do owe me, though, for yet again needing my help," Moira reminded. Sherlock's face hardened.

"I'm sure we can discuss something." Moira stood and sighed.

"You know well what I want, and so there isn't a need to discuss anything but why it seems to be so hard for you to pay me back," Moira snapped.

"We'll see, how about that?" Sherlock tried to negotiate.

"You're impossible," Moira remarked, shaking her head.

"You aren't?" Sherlock questioned.

"Considering the fact that ever since we met I've spent my life helping you should show that I'm not as impossible as you very well think I am. We've been friends on some level for years and you have never shown me so much as friendly gesture but Miss Adler comes along and suddenly after a year not speaking you need me to help her? Why the hell is she so much more worth it than I after every damned thing I've done for you? How many times did I risk getting in trouble for you, or actually get in trouble for you? Yet still you are so above the rest of the world that you can't even say thank you. For some odd reason I do all this for you and I get nothing. Suddenly I'm the impossible one? Look in the mirror Sherlock because you're impossible. I'll sleep on the couch," Moira ranted.

"Don't go downstairs," Sherlock stopped her as he put out his arm. It took everything for her not to just freeze. "You're right. I haven't been fair."

"You must have hit your head," Moira sighed.

"What?" Sherlock ignorantly asked.

"You never admit that you're wrong or not fair. Rarely do ever say that anyone but you is right," Moira explained. "I really should just slap you right now."

"Go ahead," Sherlock said. Moira hesitated for a moment.

"I won't," Moira decided.

"At least do something because you obviously are emotionally charged," Sherlock pleaded. Moira thought of how to respond. She decided to let her heart get the best of her and she stepped in front of the man she'd known her whole life. She cocked her head to the side, letting her eyes flutter closed as nervousness filled her body. She leaned in a little and pressed her lips against his. It was strange, being so close finally. She pulled back breathlessly.

"Does that count?" Moira asked. Her heart sped as she swallowed. Dumbfounded, Sherlock just blinked. "I'm going to empty out one of the guestrooms for you." She nudged past.

Sherlock took a shower while he waited for Moira to finish. He wasn't exactly sure for once of what just happened. He let the hot water pound against him. For some odd reason the entire time he was with his assistant, Molly, he thought of only being here. Technically the house was also his by law, but it was Moira's all the same. Why was Moira getting to him? He'd known her for longer than he could remember and never before had this happened. They always had just been allies, surviving with each other, avoiding Mycroft and the cooing of over prideful parents.

Still, that kiss, that one moment of passion, had left him speechless. He couldn't quite place his thoughts on what it was. For years he had believed that he and Moira hated each other mutually and just got along to make his parents and her parents happy. It also added that Mycroft was insanely jealous that Moira had chosen Sherlock. Was there something more to this?

It seemed like everything had a bit more to it than what was seemed. Jim Moriarti, the reason Sherlock now stood in that shower, was up to something more. He wasn't as high as it went. No, whatever was going on went high enough that not even Mycroft knew what it was. In the same manner, was there more to why Moira chose Sherlock? They were the same age, but was there something more? Did she feel something more? If so, what did Sherlock feel? He felt nothing, just as he always had, up until that kiss.

Steam filled the shower. Sherlock breathed it in, letting it fill him. He tried to think of just nothing. He wanted to forget it all, but he couldn't. No, Moira was stuck on his mind and that was final. The door creaked open. "I'll set your towel on the sink. I'm sorry about earlier. It was out of line," Moira apologized softly.

"No, you're fine. I asked you to do something and you did," Sherlock countered.

"It was my first kiss," Moira remarked.

"I'm aware, Moira," Sherlock confirmed. He knew everything about her, except what motivated that move.

"It was yours as well. I still notice things, Sherlock. I know you better than anyone else," Moira explained. Sherlock knew she just wanted to talk and move on.

"Tomorrow I'll need you to do a few things," Sherlock mentioned.

"We'll have to let this out in the open, won't we?" Moira asked, talking about the marriage. Sherlock sighed. It was a dangerous game, but they had no choice.

"I believe we will. Mycroft should know where the documents are. You'll need the proof. I'll be listening in. Afterwards you can stop and see Molly. I need my research and your log in codes," Sherlock explained.

"So yet again you need me to do something for you. It's just like always, Sherlock. It's the same story. I'll help, but just because I know what you're thinking. The war's just begun," Moira told him. Sherlock turned off the water and grabbed the towel.

"You'll be in danger doing this," Sherlock warned her. "After the codes you don't need to do anything. I would hope you wouldn't."

"Since when do you care? I'll see this to the end. I don't care if I'll be in danger. You are the only friend I have, whether you acknowledge that or not. I don't care what you think," Moira stood her ground.

"That's your choice, and I won't talk you out of it," Sherlock agreed.

"I'm lonely," Moira remarked, leaning her head against the door. Her hair, a wavy brown, hung around her shoulders. She was gorgeous, a pure beauty standing there in pajamas.

"I know you are," Sherlock comforted. "I'll be right in." Moira smiled slightly as she turned from the bathroom. He dried off and went to bed, Moira, thinking him asleep, curling up with her head on his chest. He lay there still, staring at the ceiling, almost wishing as his arm held Moira that morning would never come.

**A/N: So I decided to rewrite my last attempt at a fan fiction for this. I've worked with this idea for about a year now, and I feel confident with how this one turns out. I'm already well ahead on it, and trust me, it'll be fun. I'd just like to say that I won't have any hint of a John/Sherlock thing because I just find gayness a bit strange, but that might just be me. However, I have some fun ideas between Moira and Sherlock which should be interesting, especially once Molly gets in the picture. ;)**


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